


Feed

by TwistedWonderland



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Fear, M/M, Self-Hatred, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6757297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedWonderland/pseuds/TwistedWonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is an entity so evil, so sinister, so horribly vile, that even the utterance of his name strikes fear into the hearts of men. The only safe way to refer to this King of Darkness is simply...HIM. He has tasted the Flash's fear, his anger, his utter self-loathing and he wants more. He wants it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feed

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm not necessarily new to this Fanfiction thing, but I am new to AO3. So...yeah. This is my first Flash story and I hope you all like it. This is very much the result of me being FlashVibe trash and (correctly) believing HIM from the Powerpuff Girls is the greatest thing to happen to TV since the invention of television.
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

The demon was bored. Bored with the city. Bored with the fighting. Bored, bored, bored. So boring, those girls were. With all their flying and saving and that love. All that love that surrounds them. It made the demon sick. Sick, sick, sick and bored. There was a point where the girls were fun. Fun to control, to manipulate, to destroy. But the girls are young, too young. Too young to feel what the demon craves. He tried to get the girls to feel, to let loose those oily black feelings little girls shouldn’t feel infect their little minds. But, no. The girls were too young, too innocent, too muched loved by everyone. How could the demon take the town, the world, with all that love? So the demon panned and planned and planned. The demon fought and fought and fought. And the demon lost and lost and lost. Over and over again. To those girls and their love. And the demon grew bored. Bored, bored, bored with the routine.

“Oh, Mr. Quakers,” the demon cooed, bring the rubber ducky up to his face. “How on Earth could this have happen to us? To me? To become so **boring and dull**?”

The demon gave the toy a light squeeze and it gaze a tiny squeak in response. The demon sank lower into the bath, the steam caressing his red, red skin and the water began to boil in response to the demon’s frustrations.

“No, Mr. Quackers,” the demon sighed, letting his body relax under the water. “It’s not the girls’ fault. If only they were older, then imagine how much fun we could have, how much **havoc** we could wreak.”

The duck gave another squeak and the demon brought the toy to his face, dark eyes boring into the toy’s painted ones.

“ **Of course I’ve tried that** ,” the demon growled, submerging himself up to his chin in the bath. “But what’s the point? There’s nowhere on Earth I could possibly go that those insolent brats wouldn’t follow.”

The demon squeaked the duck twice, before he perked up. Water droplets rolled over his skin, evaporating into little puffs of steam before they could reach the bath. The demon’s black lips quirked and slithered into a smile as his claw turned the bath water round and round in slow circles. 

“Why Mr. Quackers,” the demon said. “What an absolutely splendid idea. But, where shall I go? There are so many possibilities too choose from.”

The water rippled as the demon thought. Thought of a new world, an Earth to call his own. Thought of a new place, a city to make him feel at home. And a hero, the most important aspect, to make him feel powerful. A hero, the demon pondered; who was not like the girls. Not so innocent to the world and its horror. Not so beloved that the people wouldn’t turn. Not so full of hope and love that it was power.

A hero who was broken. So broken, so desperate, so alone in their own little world. A hero so full of hatred and loathing, yet so good, so pure of heart. The thought made the demon chuckle. A hero in love with the lives they saved, yet hated their own. Yes, that was a hero the demon could enjoy.

The demon looked down at the bath water and saw not his reflection, but a young man’s. A man in a red suit with the emblem of a lightning bolt on his chest. And in his eyes, in those big, brown eyes, the demon saw all he needed. All those delicious feelings he craved from the girls, the citizens, the world. They were all there, swimming in those haunted eyes. The demon shuddered, goosebumps rising on his red skin. His lips quivered and he reached out a delicate claw, as if he could touch the young man in the water.

“Why Mr. Quackers,” the demon sputtered, his voice so thick with joy he shuttered. “He’s absolutely perfect.” The demon glanced at the toy, before giving it another squeak.

“What’s that?” he asked, turning back to the man in the water. The demon dragged his claw through the reflection and the ripples tore the image apart, only to replace it with someone new. Another young man, with dark skin and darker hair, twirling a lollipop in his mouth.

The demon felt something tug at his chest as he looked at the young man, who held what the demon craved in his eyes as well, but not nearly as deliciously enticing as the other man’s. But, there was something else buried in his eyes. A glimmer of something that made the demon’s skin crawl.

The demon had seen it before. Not recently, and only once, but that moment, that single moment, was strong enough to sear it into his memory. He remembered the hope, the love. He remembered how it burned. Oh, how it burned. So bright, so fierce, so powerful it nearly overwhelmed the demon.

Nearly.

It had been tricky, but the demon had managed to snuff it out. The demon cherished that memory, a memory older then the girls and their love, older then the city and its people. The demon clung to it, relished in it, that single moment where all that he craved filled him. The hopelessness, the fear, the defeat. And that loathing, that sweet, sweet loathing was enough to satisfy him, if only for a moment.

“Interesting, Mr. Quackers.” The demon said, before a stream of giggles slipped passed the demon’s lips. The young man’s face bubbled and evaporated as the demon’s laugh grew higher and higher. Tears pricked the edges of his eyes as thick cracks splintered and slithered across the porcelain tub, leaking boiling steam. 

“Oh, Mr. Quackers. **This is going to be so much fun** ,” the demon exclaimed as the bathtub gave a single groan before it burst into shards of porcelain and the giggling demon was shrouded by a thick cloud of steam. “Look out **Barry Allen**. I’m coming for you.”


End file.
